


Just My Type

by Starless_Void



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creampie, F/M, Foursome, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Incest, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Threesome, Vaginal Sex, boypussy!stiles, cum kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starless_Void/pseuds/Starless_Void
Summary: OOF, this is literally just poorly written smut lads. No real direction I was going with it, I just opened up a word doc and started typing. But the ending rounded it all out and explained the strange cadence and time skips. But this is actually 10k+ of Stiles getting fucked by three super hot guys.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Derek Hale, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 211





	Just My Type

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually working on a real fic, I dont write just smut. 
> 
> I swear.
> 
> Really. 
> 
> (sweats nervously)
> 
> No but really, I am working on an actual story, but its just so easy to put it aside and write smut. So you can enjoy this while I struggle through actual character development and not just the description of Derek's ass. Or Peter's abs. Or Chris's arms. 
> 
> (Ok those are totally going in my story but they will not be main plot points, pinky swear.)

Stiles can hardly contain his excitement as he strips off the last of his clothes and jumps under the steaming spray of water. The heat warms and relaxes his tired body, and the satisfaction of seeing the brown water sluicing off of him turn clear as the last of the dirt and filth from his lacrosse game is scrubbed off him is indescribable. 

His mood is greatly influenced by the fact that he got to play in a game today, a feat in and of itself, but it can mostly be attributed to the fact that he held two loads of werewolf cum stuffed tight into his cunt throughout the event, plugged up by a large, purple plug that Peter bought him for that very reason. 

Every step had him clenching down on the plug, and with all his movement, he could feel the thick, creamy cum sloshing in his womb and pussy, and he managed to survive having three orgasms on the field while the game was in progress, with no one the wiser.

Well, no one besides Derek and Peter, who watched him with heated fascination as he shuddered thorough an orgasm and then minutes later managed to score a goal for his team. 

The scent charm he made worked like, well, like a charm, and none of the werewolves picked up anything strange, attributing his shivering and occasionally wobbly legs to his natural clumsiness, and the fact that he almost never played in games. 

After thoroughly washing most of his body, his slippery, soapy fingers found their way between his legs, and he had to grip the wall to prevent himself from falling when a sudsy glide over his swollen clit brought stars to his eyes, nearly bowling him over. 

He had to have come nearly ten times today, maybe more, given how cum drunk he gets when Peter or Derek fuck him he tends to lose track, and his body still aches for more, hungry for the pleasures that the two wolves could give him. 

When Derek climbed through his window about seven months back and found him shoulders down, ass up with three fingers buried in his drenched and twitching pussy, calling out his name, it was the beginning of the best thing to ever happen to Stiles. 

After Stiles turned and saw him standing there in shock, sporting a giant bulge in his pants that promised great things, he begged Derek to fuck him and boy did the moody sourwolf deliver, wielding his thick, nine inch cock like a pro, fucking him for two hours and giving him two heavy loads of creamy Hale milk in his needy pussy before knotting him, stuffing his womb to its limits with the sheer amounts of cum he produced. 

He ended up falling asleep from exhaustion right after that, waking up throughout the night to Derek fucking another load into his greedy body until he had a nice bulge in his lower tummy by the morning, which Derek liked very much, given the way he wouldn’t take his eyes and hands off it. 

One anti-pregnancy spell and a thorough conversation that was mostly Stiles talking and Derek nodding and shaking his head later, and Stiles became Derek’s official boy. Cum dump would be the most accurate term, but Derek wasn’t into degradation and neither was Stiles, but essentially whenever Derek was feeling horny, he had an open invitation to fuck Stiles, which Stiles later learned was a casual-use kink. 

The best days were when Stiles would wake up pleasantly full and plugged up with Derek’s cum, the man having come sometime in the night and fucked him in his sleep, leaving after he had his pleasure. It took a while for the wolf to feel comfortable doing this, and after a tough conversation about some repressed feelings, they realized that they cared about each other in more than a physical sense, and although neither was involved with anyone else, they decided to become exclusive.

Peter came into the equation much like Derek did, he showed up without warning. 

Derek, as Stiles soon came to understand, had a daily routine, and would often stop by at certain times, and Stiles is nothing if not giving, so he would often like to surprise the wolf by playing into the casual-use kink they both shared. 

That particular time, Stiles was wearing his lightly used lacrosse uniform shirt and a jockstrap, and he was laying on his stomach on his bed, books spread out in front of him, studying with his earbuds in, so he wouldn’t be able to anticipate the moment when Derek would sink into him. 

The anticipation kept him wet and ready, and every so often a breeze would come in through his open window and the cool air over his moist and heated skin would make his hips twitch, or send shivers through him. 

When a hand gently caressed the skin of his bubbled ass, spreading him a bit, he should have known something was up, Derek liked to get right to it, he relished in the way his cunt throbbed and fluttered around him as Stiles got used the intrusion, but he really couldn’t be blamed for not questioning it when a mouth went to work on him, bringing him to two fantastic orgasms as he spurred him on with moans and breathy ‘fuck yes’, ‘don’t stop’’s. 

He was on the edge of orgasm number three at the mercy of the wicked tongue as Derek drops though the window and the two just stare at each other, and thinking back on it makes Stiles laugh at the picture they must have made, slack jawed Derek, terrified and confused Stiles and then a messy faced and dazed Peter who pops his head up when Stiles jolts and goes still. 

There was a bit of yelling and bloodshed in his room that day, but it was an honest mistake, Peter couldn’t smell the claim Derek made on him because Stiles had put the scent charm on his uniform way before he got together with Derek so it wouldn’t reek of BO. 

Seeing Peter realize that he practically just sexually assaulted him was eye opening for both Derek and Stiles, because neither expected him to be so sorry about it, nor did they expect him to sink into a bit of a depression over it, disappearing for over a week and only showing up to pack meetings for around fifteen minutes before slipping away silently, looking more and more haggard each time.

After some long conversations and some heated arguments over taking care of ones self, Peter officially joined the party, so to speak. Both he and Derek had free range over Stiles cunt twenty-four-seven, and despite all the ways it could go wrong, it didn’t.

Sometimes they took him together, sometimes they gave each other space. But either way, Stiles got fucked at least once every single day and he was in heaven. 

Unbeknownst to the wolves and Stiles, however, one person didn’t miss how Stiles sported a flush in his face the whole game, and was prone to bouts of shivers that had nothing to do with the slight, warm breeze that occasionally blew through. 

Chris Argent sits in his bed, fist wrapped around his fat cock as he thinks back to the way Stiles would rub his thighs together when he stood still, the way his plush mouth would part whenever he sat down, how he spread his legs a little wider to fully grind his crotch onto the bench. 

Chris knows what a person looks like when they have their pussy stuffed in public, he knows what to look for, and when he really thinks on it, Stiles never got naked around the others, didn’t even so much as take his shirt off, so its fully possible the kid is hiding a tight little cunt under those baggy clothes, and just the thought has him groaning, hips pumping up to fuck his fist. 

Even if Chris was imagining things, looking too far into little details, the fantasy was enough to have him pulse out thick ropes of gooey cum that stripe his muscled torso, and even while basking in the afterglow, Chris Argent starts to think up of ways to prove his hypothesis. He is, after all, a highly skilled hunter, and Stiles Stilinski is very worthy prey.

The laughter of his friends echoes in the sparsely decorated loft, Derek may be better adjusted now than he was when they first met, but nothing short of an intervention can save his decoration skills. 

Stiles feels like the cat who got the cream, and in some sense, he did. Derek knotted him just before the meeting, and he is still riding the hormone high that knotting induces in him, his cheeks still a little flushed and his eyes a bit glassy. 

He writes off his appearance as allergies, and everyone generally accepts it, except for Scott, who has known him the longest and knows that he doesn’t usually have allergies. Its easy enough for him to accept the explanation though, especially after Stiles makes sure to loudly blow his nose a few times. 

The only person who seems to suspect anything is Chris Argent of all people. 

The older man is sitting on one of the big chairs that everyone made Derek buy for the space, the only real furniture in the room besides the two large couches. Chris sits like a king lounging on a throne, leaned back with his arms resting on the rests, and his thick legs spread wide, bringing attention to the not-so-slight bulge in his lap. 

No one really bothers Chris at the meetings, the man happy to be a background presence, offering his assistance and suggestions only when he thinks they are needed, and the younger people respect that, giving him his space. 

Stiles cant take his eyes off him today, and that can probably be attributed to the skin-tight jeans hugging his ass and thighs just this side of too tight, along with the well worn white t-shirt that has seen so many uses that it is practically see-through, topped off by the thin leather jacket that, for once, seems to be more for fashion purposes rather than utility.

His wardrobe and the couple days old scruff on his face do him so many favors, and Stiles finds himself spreading his own legs on autopilot, hips moving in very slow circles as the new green plug in his cunt stirs up the immense load Derek gave him not even an hour ago. 

He forces himself to stop, just because the pack couldn’t smell the sex on him, if he starts giving the stool he is seated on a lap dance, even they will start to ask questions. 

Feeling a little (a whole hell of a lot) worked up, Stiles automatically seeks out his wolves, and he isn’t really that surprised to find Derek watching Chris with an intense expression, that to most will just look like a scowl, but Stiles is fluent in Derek-speak, and this particular furrowing of eyebrows indicates that he is deep in thought, maybe even self-reflecting.

Very interesting.

He seeks out Peter next, and is pleased to find the wolf sitting in the darkened stairwell that leads up to the second floor, to Derek’s private room. The older wolf grins mischievously and none-too-subtley adjusts his pants, which prompts Stiles to give an eyeroll, but nonetheless get up and slowly make his way to the corner, intent on following Peter where he disappears up the shadowed steps. 

He makes it about halfway across the room, attempting to feign interest in the desk that sits in front of the giant wall of windows, when a large, warm hand brushes his lower back, and he bites his lip to hold in the moan that wants to break out when the contact makes him clench around the silicon plug. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Stiles?” Chris’s voice hasn’t always been this low and husky, right? Stiles tries to reason as he shifts on his feet, regretting the action for the way it makes the hard object inside him slide just that much deeper. “You really don’t look well, do you want me to take you home?”

More than anything, Daddy. Fuck, Stiles is such a slut, he literally just got laid right before this and now he is milking the stupid plug inside him like it can get him off, which it can, granted, but if he has an orgasm right now, with Chris right fucking there, then he will know something is up, and Stiles really doesn’t see him talking his way out of it unscathed, or without anyone else from the pack picking up on it. 

“Um, maybe that would be best, yeah.” Stiles mumbles instead, hoping that Peter can hear him and come save him from Chris’s good intentions.

As the older man announces to the rest of the people that he is driving Stiles home, his heart sinks. No way can Peter do anything without looking suspicious now. They aren’t exactly open about their relationship, and while Scott knows that Peter is on the up and up, and that he talks to Stiles sometimes, he doesn’t know that most of the time he sees Stiles, the boy is filled with the wolf’s cum.

He can feel how little of Derek’s huge load is left in him by now, his body having adapted to the constant loads being deposited in him by speeding up the absorption of it and using it to fuel his magic. He sends a pleading look to Derek in one last bid to save himself from waiting to get dicked down, but the wolf still seems to be lost in thought, hardly noticing Stiles distress. Not really surprising since the scent charm doesn’t let him smell anything off of Stiles. He hasn’t been empty of cum since, well since Derek first came in his window all those months ago, and he doesn’t look forward to the cold empty feeling in his lower abdomen. 

Climbing into the passenger seat of Chris’s SUV, Stiles realizes how much being full of Derek and Peter had calmed his anxious tendencies, his leg jumping in place as he fiddles with his hands, a little dazed at the unusual turn of events. 

Chris says something in that deep, soothing tenor of his, but Stiles is lost in thought, and when the man leans his large body over him and lightly presses him to the seat, Stiles inhales sharply in surprise, getting a lungful of the very light cologne that may just be Chris’s natural scent along with hints of motor oil and gunpowder from his day job of being an arms dealer. 

Stiles automatically goes to follow him when he pulls away, but jerks to a stop when the seatbelt Chris had buckled for him goes ridged. His cheeks flush in mortification at the little questioning head tilt Chris gives him and he keeps his eyes downcast to avoid the question he knows is coming. 

“Are you achy, baby?” 

The entire car lurches with the full body jolt that question wrenches out of Stiles, and the answering needy whimper and rubbing of thighs is very obvious, but Stiles had been caught completely off guard, the question coming out of left field. 

As Chris slows to a stop at one of the red lights, Chris settles one of his hands on Stiles knee, and without thinking, Stiles spreads his legs and leans back a little, enticing the man to inch his hand up his thigh at a torturously slow pace. 

The light is green now, but there is no one around, and Chris doesn’t seem all too interested in the road, his sharp blue eyes fixed very intently on the wet patch soaking into the crotch of his light colored jeans, where there is a very telling lack of a bulge.

For a moment, Stiles is frozen, there is no way Chris doesn’t know he doesn’t have the male equipment, and he is going to get mad, or be disappointed, and the sting of tears prickles at the edge of his eyes, but then Chris is engulfing the entirety of his mound in his firm grip and rubbing his middle and ring fingers in such a way that his labia parts for him in his pants, and then his fingers encounter the flared base of the plug, the tips of his fingers pushing it in, causing it to rub his sensitive insides, and he mewls. 

The sound breaks whatever trance Chris was in and he turns his head back to the road, gunning the ignition. He doesn’t take his hand off of Stiles, but he avoids the plug as he continues to undulate his fingers with light squeezes of his palm, lighting up all of Stiles nerves and making him throb. 

“I knew you had a little cunt, baby, I just knew it. I could see how needy you were, always wearing such a pretty blush, your pretty lips always swollen and red from biting them, you just need someone to help you get rid of the ache, isn’t that right?” Chris is spewing a steady stream of dirty talk in that low, rumbling voice and every time Stiles tries to gather the brainpower to tell him that he was with Peter and Derek, Chris would do something like look at him from the corner of his eye, pupils nearly swallowing the blue of his iris, and the words would get stuck in his throat.

“Please Daddy,” Stiles whines, too far gone now. Chris curses and the car swerves a bit, nearly taking out Stiles mailbox, and oh, look at that, they are home. 

“Yeah, baby? Tell Daddy what you need.” Chris is gone for two seconds before Stiles door is wrenched open and Chris unbuckles him, lifting him into his arms with his hands on his ass, and leaning back against the side of his car, letting gravity help plaster Stiles to his front. 

“Oh, geez Chris, you got him all worked up.” Peter chastises, appearing like an apparition from the shadows like some sort of demon. Chris tightens his hold on Stiles, holding the boy closer to his chest as he reaches for the gun strapped on the inside of his jacket. 

The front door to the house opens up and Derek lets out a loud sigh. “There may not be many neighbors around, but I really doubt Stiles wants to be fucked in his driveway.” He leaves the door open and walks back inside, and Chris cant tear his eyes away from the slight sway of his toned ass as he does. 

Peter is already at the doorway, and he turns to shoot Chris a judgmental brow. “What, waiting for another invitation, Argent?” He taunts.

Stiles has gone limp in his arms, but he shivers minutely at the light breeze that kicks up and that spurs Chris into action, long legs carrying himself and Stiles inside while Peter shuts and locks the door behind them. 

Derek is by his side in an instant, not taking Stiles from him, but lightly cupping the boys face, inspecting him for a moment before dropping a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, nuzzling under his chin afterword.

The dopey smile on Stiles face says it all, and Chris curses himself for being so blinded by his own lust. 

“Oh, fuck.” He moves like he is going to give the boy to Derek but the moment his grip strays from his ass, Stiles whines, tightening his grip on Chris’s neck. “Shit, I didn’t know you two were-“ 

Peter snickers loudly from his left and the sound cuts off his stuttered apology. “That’s quite alright, Chris, Stiles here was clearly into it, still is by the way he’s got you trapped, and Derek is just struggling with his attraction to you, feeling like he is betraying Stiles by wanting to suck your cock.” The wolf shrugs in a what-can-you-do kind of fashion.

“I keep trying to tell him its no different than how Stiles and I fuck and how Stiles isn’t betraying him by being attracted to me but, hey. What does Uncle Peter know.” Derek is cherry red in the face, and looks like he is about to pass out from lack of oxygen or sheer mortification, and Chris can admit he is a little lost. 

The silence stretches out for a good, awkward five seconds before Stiles sighs, loosening his death grip and sliding down Chris’s body to stand on his own, body still pressed close to his though.

“As always, I have to be the adult and facilitate the conversation.” His speech is a little slurred, and he keeps swaying in place, discomfort clear on his face. 

After a moment of clear thought on Stiles part, he steps away from Chris and reaches an arm out to Peter, who is by his side in an instant, rumbling in his chest and rubbing his face all over Stiles neck, the look of smug satisfaction nearly overriding his own inner turmoil. 

Nearly.

“Chris, Derek, take a seat.” Stiles orders, his voice authoritative, despite being the lowest ranking person in the room, in every sense of the word. Nevertheless, the men listen, squeezing themselves together on the small loveseat they were standing in front of. 

Chris doesn’t comment when Stiles starts to take off his clothes, averting his eyes in respect. After a lewd squelching sound, a flash of neon green flashes across his view of a very interesting section of the rug, and Chris nearly chokes on his own tongue at the sight of the medium sized plug that rests next to his foot, the silicon drenched in a very incriminating clear liquid. 

There is some shuffling and a rustle of clothing and Chris risks a glance at Derek’s face, only to find the man staring at Chris’s lap with intensity. 

Curious.

A throat clearing brings Chris’s attention back to Stiles, who is sitting back to chest on Peters lap, legs spread over the older mans thighs, giving him and Derek a perfect view of Peters thick cock stretching his flushed pussy wide, the mans full balls laying on top of his slacks where Stiles must have pulled him out.

“First thing’s first, eyes up here.” Stiles orders, and Chris jerks his gaze up to the boys face, and how is he already fucking whipped? The most he did was feel Stiles up through his clothes. 

Peter rocks harshly up into him and Stiles goes cross eyed for a moment before his face hardens and he must have clenched down, because Peter lets out an absolutely filthy groan, but stills his hips for the moment. 

“Derek, I will say it as many times as I need to, I love you. I know you know this, but I still cant believe I get to say it without you shoving me against a wall- well, and not fucking me against it anyway.” Derek, despite having the person he loved riding his uncles dick not ten feet away, flushes adorably and his eyes soften, he doesn’t repeat the words, but even an outsider like Chris can feel them in his expression. It furthers his feeling of not belonging. “And you know I will love you no matter what, I know you know this.”

He turns a bit to look Peter in the eyes as he starts his next point. “Secondly! Peter you absolute asshole, I cannot believe I am going to say this, because I had an entire thing planned but whatever, Derek and I suffered through three hours of you tubing for nothing, I guess.” Derek nods in solidarity and Peter looks like he is going to explode when Stiles just takes a moment to let him stew in his curiosity.

“I love you too, you dense idiot.” Stiles, despite being speared on top of the wolf’s dick, seems to brace himself for rejection, but Chris is far more interested in the complicated series of twitches Peters face seems to phase through, before settling on carefully blank. “Stiles, you don’t have to say that for my benefit, I never expected you-“ Derek’s growl seems to come as a surprise to all four of them, and oddly enough, Derek recovers first.

“Are you accusing Stiles of lying?” He grits out, staring his uncle down with the icy blue eyes of his wolf. Peter flashes his own in automatic response to the threat before casting them downwards. Stiles cups the older wolf’s face in his palms and forces him to look him in the eyes. “I am not so cruel to just say things like that, Peter. You don’t have to answer me, you don’t have to reciprocate, hell, you can leave right now if you want time to think.” Despite his words he remains firmly seated on Peters lap, and Chris has to hand it to him, he built a very effective trap for the flighty wolf, unless Peter really was distressed, there was no way he was pulling out of Stiles tight, wet heat. 

Derek surprises him by leaning against him, and Chris lifts his arm on reflex, settling it over Derek’s shoulder in a show of comfort, which the wolf doesn’t even look like he is aware he takes, his eyes glued to Stiles as he reasons with Peter. 

There are tears shed, and Chris really wants to take pictures to hold over the wolf, but he isn’t a monster, and Stiles is very naked and Derek is practically on his lap, so maybe not. Trying to give the two men some space, despite still not knowing why he wasn’t gutted for touching a wolves partner, Chris focuses on Derek, who has tucked his head into the curve of Chris’s neck, his warm breath puffing over the sensitive skin and causing his cock to harden again. 

Luckily, Stiles and Peter seem to resolve their,,, situation, and the boy turns his amber eyes to him. “Lastly, I don’t claim to speak for these two, but I don’t love you Chris.” The words are spoken softly, and its not like it was something he didn’t already know, but they still seem to cut deep, leaving him feeling hollow. 

“However,” Stiles hurries to continue, seeing the pinched strain to the corners of his eyes, “All three of us want to fuck you, and I can definitely see myself loving you someday in the future, if that interests you at all. But we are not easy, and you would need to be a really good lay, and woo the fuck out of all of us. We deserve the best after all.” The statement sounded like something Lydia told him to say, and the strange looks she has been giving him for the past few days suddenly make sense.

Peter, being himself and needing to earn back at least some degree of his armor that Stiles just tore through ruthlessly not two minutes earlier, pipes up. “I never said anything about wanting to fuck Argent.”

Stiles levels him with a look and Chris barely holds back his laugh, but Derek can feel his shoulders shaking and presses his face into the older mans neck, inhaling heavily, and suddenly, laughter is the last thing on his mind. 

Stiles might have said something to Peter that caused him to squawk in indignation, but it really didn’t feel as important as the feeling of Derek pressing open mouthed kisses to his throat and jaw, hand resting between his pecs and slowly moving downward to feel his abs twitch and strain at the stimulus. 

Stiles is quite happy with how this evening is going, despite almost having Peter dump him on the floor and run off into the night to brood and convince himself that he didn’t deserve anything nice, or that he was somehow taking something away from Derek when he already took so much or some other bullshit.

Peter is pumping his hips in a steady rhythm, chin hooked over his shoulder as he and Stiles watch Derek descend on poor, defenseless Chris. The wolf’s eyes are unfocused, and his nostrils flare as he drinks in gulp after gulp of Chris’s scent from where his face is practically smooshed to his neck, and when he brings his hand down to cup the large bulge in his jeans, all four of them moan. 

“Just look at how desperate Derek is, sweetheart.” Peter croons in his ear, hands steady on his hips as he bounces him up and down on his cock, claws just barely coming out to prick at his skin. “Poor boy felt so bad, lusting after another when he already had you, but now he knows better, hm?” 

Derek is nonverbal, face slack in pleasure and contentment as he drags in greedy inhales of Chris’s scent, hand massaging the large bulge in his criminally tight jeans. Stiles gulps, mouth suddenly dry, and rasps, “Take his pants off, Der.” Peter purrs in his ear in agreement and praises him for having such a great idea.

The sound of a police siren going off in the distance startles all of them, though the noise is common, and fades after a moment, they are all reminded of the fact that they are currently in the Sheriffs house, about to fuck the Sheriffs son, and maybe each other, and they all collectively agree to move this party to Peters apartment, the one place where no one is likely to show up at any inopportune moments. 

They agree to take Chris’s SUV, given that the wolves literally ran here from the loft after the pack meeting ended, and Stiles is in no shape to drive, plus his jeep was at the loft still, and neither Hale nor Argent wanted to set foot into that deathtrap. 

Chris pins Peter with a cold glare when the wolf, Stiles still speared upon his cock, asks if he can drive. 

Derek protests as well, giving a pout that Chris doesn’t even think the man is aware of. “You can’t drive with Stiles on your lap, the last thing we need is to get pulled over.” The men all grimace at the thought of having a deputy, or, heaven forbid, the Sheriff himself, pull them over and see what was going on.

Chris wordlessly slips into the drivers seat, ignoring Peters whining about living out a fantasy. “Is Stiles safety and wellbeing less important than a momentary feeling of pleasure, Peter?” He accuses, and Derek backs him up by scowling at his stunned uncle. 

“Yeah, so you better give Stiles to me for now.” Derek tries to weasel, holding his arms out like Peter is just going to give him the boy, despite how the man clearly isn’t finished with the boy. 

The three others slip in the backseat, and Chris nearly shifts into the wrong gear when Peter just lifts Stiles off his lap and produces a new toy out of thin air, dragging it along a rivet of pearly cum before plugging the mess inside Stiles messy cunt, Derek carefully arranging the boy to sit on his lap, drawing the large blanket further over his shoulders. 

The ride to Peters apartment is interesting, the wolf playing coy and hesitant about letting Chris know the location of the place, until Stiles wiggles enough to bury his face into the side of Peters neck, letting out little pleased sounds before saying in a sugary sweet voice, “Please Peter? I need more cum in me, I don’t wanna feel empty, please.” The little minx even managed to stir up some tears for his little performance, but despite knowing he is being played, Peter falls for it hook, line and sinker.

They were able to get in the building through the back door, providing privacy, and they took the stairs to the seventh floor, Peter easily unlocking his door and ushering them in. 

Derek set Stiles down so he could remove his shoes, and the boy, already buck naked, sprints further into the apartment, likely towards Peters bedroom. Knowing how wolves are with scents, especially in someplace as private as their bedroom, Chris turns to the older wolf, ready to ask if it was all right, but he doesn’t even get to open his mouth before Peter grabs him by the collar of his jacket and covers his mouth with his own, and then Chris opens his mouth for an entirely different reason. 

Derek spares them a glance, but they don’t even notice him, too caught up in each other at the moment, and he shrugs, figuring he can have his turn with Chris later, and takes off after Stiles, catching up in time to tackle the boy to the giant bed with a playful growl.

“Oh no! The big bad wolf got me!” Stiles cries out dramatically, going limp in Derek’s arms like he is swooning. Derek grins and huffs out a heatless, “Brat.” Before claiming his mouth, only parting to strip off his clothes, pressing his full body on top of Stiles, covering him in his scent. 

When they talked about adding Peter into their lives, Derek expected to feel inadequate, or underappreciated, but in truth, he just felt relief that Peter could experience the overwhelming love and loyalty of Stiles like he himself had, and they were able to work around each other, or even with each other if they were desperate enough, with little to no problem. He loved his uncle, not like he loved Stiles, or might grow to love Chris, but he does love him, and yeah, sometimes he has to see his dick, but that is a small price to pay for the feeling of family that Stiles manages to invoke in them, and adding Chris to the mix is like all of his fever dreams come true. 

While lost in his reminiscing, Stiles starts to squirm, craving attention and touches, and snakes a hand between them, reaching for one of the many endless plugs Peter always seems to have on hand, only to have Derek growl and snatch his wrist in a strong hold, using one hand to pin both of his arms above his head. 

“No touching. Mine.” Derek reminds him, and Stiles nods, relaxing and tilting his head back, submitting beautifully. Thoroughly scenting him by rubbing his scratchy stubble over the sensitive, pale expanse of his neck, Derek takes his hand away from Stiles wrists, pleased when he leaves them right where they are, only shifting a couple inches so that he could grip the headboard, needing to grip something to keep him grounded. 

“Bet you’re feeling pretty empty right about now, baby.” Derek never really was into dirty talk, not really liking to talk in general, but when Stiles keens and shakes in an effort to stay still, to be good, through his pleasure, Derek thinks that perhaps he can get into it.

“I know you said you absorb our cum faster to fuel you magic, and Peter didn’t even knot you at your house, so I bet if I take this plug out of your tight little pussy that not even one drop of cum is going to spill out, what do you think?” He plays with the perky nipples that jut out from his chest, plucking them and dragging the backs of his claws over them, Stiles reacting beautifully to his teasing. 

Chris and Peter appear in the doorway, shirts missing and pants undone, but still on. Derek gets an idea, hauling Stiles to sit on his lap, mirroring the way he sat astride Peter earlier at the Stilinski house, but angling him so that he slouched a bit in the hold, legs spreading wide and giving the two men a front seat view of his pretty little cunt. 

Dropping one hand down to spread Stiles lips even further apart had the boy squirming in his hold, his long arms coming to loop around Derek’s neck to hold on, flush traveling down his neck and over his chest at being so blatantly put on display.

The older men finish stripping off the last of their clothes, their movements uncoordinated because they refuse to take their eyes off of Stiles dripping core, wet, pink flesh just barely stretched over a basic, black plug. 

Chris takes the initiative on Peter this time, coming up from behind him and wrapping his arms around the man, palms flat on his toned stomach, slowly sliding down to frame his pelvis and eventually his cock as they both watched Derek play with Stiles. 

“Lets get rid of this, you don’t need it anymore do you, baby?” Derek has his fingertips on the base of the plug, barely moving it in slow circular motions that only serve to draw whimpers out of the boy, before grabbing in and pumping it in and out a few times before pulling it all the way out and setting it on the side table, making a note to deal with it later. 

Just as Derek pulls the toy out, Chris finally encircles Peters hard cock in his calloused grip, pumping his own hips slowly, grinding his erection into Peters ass and leading his thrusts into the slick grip of his hands, Peters precome a nearly constant dribble, lubing up his hands nicely. 

“What a good boy, Stiles.” Chris compliments, noting Peters cock twitching at the sound of his voice so low and right by his ear. “Showing Daddy your tight little pussy, and Peter here really likes the view too.” The man in question groans, eyes flashing blue for a moment as he struggles to maintain his composure. 

Stiles glows under the praise, simultaneously flushing even harder, the red nearly reaching his sternum now. Derek’s theory from earlier appears to be correct, Chris cant see any sign of Peter’s cum from nearly an hour earlier. 

“I bet your greedy little cunt needs some more cum, huh?” Chris asks in a syrupy-sweet voice, gripping Peters cock and pointing it towards the empty pussy in front of him. “Gonna let me fill you up with Peter, baby? Is that all right with you?” 

He aims the question at both men, and Peter gives him a single harsh nod, the tips of his ears burning bright red and cock twitching strongly in his grasp, while Stiles cries out a mantra of their names, with ‘Daddy’ mixed in a few times. 

Derek holds him still as Chris urges Peter to step forward, and they all watch as Chris slides the fat head around Stiles swollen clit a few times before dipping it shallowly into the clenching heat, only to take it back out and repeat the process, reducing Peter to growls and Stiles to whines and whimpers. 

Chris hasn’t really done anything with more than one partner at a time before, but he just follows his instincts and does what he thinks would feel best, and uses his own hips to push Peter further and further in to the young man, imagining what it would feel like to fuck Peter while Peter fucks Stiles, essentially fucking both men at the same time. When Peter finally bottoms out, Chris nips at his ear and husks out a “Good boy, Peter.” Aiming to rile up the man, surprised when the tips of his ears go cherry red again, rhythm faltering for a split second before carrying on like nothing happened. 

Guiding Peter into a steady rhythm, Chris eases off him a bit, and with some more praise to Stiles and a few squeezes of Peters ass, he steps back fully, and helps Derek untangle from Stiles, only to grab the wolf by the back of the neck and smash their lips together in a bruising, dominating kiss. 

Derek goes limp in his hold, and Chris doesn’t even think before telling him, “Good boy.” And they both go still for a moment, sorting through what just happened. Chris is one second away from apologizing when Derek sighs against his mouth, letting loose an airy whine that went straight to Chris’s cock, which has been rock hard since Stiles house. 

Jesus, all three men reacted so beautifully to Chris calling them that, he has got to be stuck in some sort of dream-world or something. Hell, he didn’t even know how into this whole name calling thing he was before tonight, but he sure as hell is willing to explore it further, and from the responses he gets from the others, he isn’t the only one.

A wail from Stiles overlayed with a deep, guttural groan has Chris whipping around to see Stiles curled up on his back, legs thrown over Peters shoulders as the man hunches bodily over him, attempting to cover him with his body while his hips snap with a punishing pace, the lewd squelch of their mating showing Chris that Stiles is in no danger, in fact, judging from the death grip he has in Peters hair, the boy is exactly where he wants to be. 

He and Derek continue to stare at the show barely a foot in front of them, taking a moment to get their brains back online. Chris moves first, leaning back against the headboard and spreading his legs a bit to show off his thick cock and full balls, the man not having come all week, busy with work and planning how best to get to Stiles. 

He tugs Derek to arrange the man on his lap, lignin their cocks up and letting the younger man rut up against him, creating wonderful friction. Before tonight, Chris can’t say he ever actually looked at Derek, but now he can’t seem to tear his eyes away, the heated, glazed look in his eyes matching his tussled hair, glistening muscles heaving with pent up arousal, the kid is a work of art, and he can’t seem to keep himself from touching. 

He keeps it simple, at least at first, just feeling the barely restrained power under his hands as he glides over the hard shape of the man in front of him. Chris is obviously no stranger to the male body, both from having one himself and from past sexual exploits, but Derek is something else. It could be the fact that he is a wolf, but Chris suspects it might just be that Derek is just that good looking.

His rough exterior is cracking at the edges, little needy whines escaping the panting mouth that Chris peppers kisses to as his hands continue their exploration. When he reaches Derek’s, firm, round ass, he digs his fingers in, using some of his strength to haul their bodies that much closer, not stopping his assault of light, chaste kisses to Derek’s plush lips. 

Kiss. “Hm,” Kiss. “Chris,” Kiss. “Ah!” Kiss. “Please,” Kiss. 

The man was visibly trying to gather enough brain power to talk, but Chris is an asshole at heart, nothing like Peter, but enough to make it difficult for Derek. 

With a grin, Chris moves his kisses away from Derek’s lips, hushing the whine that got him with a pinch to the man’s ass, and making his way to the sensitive neck area that he found on Peter earlier in the foyer, testing to see if Derek would react to having the place licked and nipped like the older wolf did. 

He was not let down, the moment his stubble rasped against the skin connecting his shoulder to his neck, Derek gave a full body shudder, letting out a loud, needy whimper that made something in Chris puff up with pride. 

He did that, Chris was the one to entice such a wanton sound from the usually stoic Derek. 

“Oh? Listen to that, Stiles,” Peter is not on his side behind Stiles, a hand on his chest to keep the younger man’s back flush to him. Stiles has one leg raised slightly in the air, opening him up and easing the way for Peter to rock his hips, and Chris can see the way his knot stretches the skin of Stiles cunt, and the pleasure drunk look on Stiles face every time he grinds it further in. His chin hooks over one of his shoulders, putting them cheek to cheek as they watch Chris take Derek apart. 

“I thought you made some needy sounds, Stiles, but Derek might have you beat today. Look how desperate he is for Chris, baby. Almost as desperate as you were earlier before Chris decided to take his shot at you.” Chris snorts at the way Peter put it. He wasn’t wrong, Chris totally planned on shooting his shot today, but he miscalculated, not taking into account that someone as beautiful and needy as Stiles didn’t already have someone to help him with his needs. 

Derek, on the other hand, is scarlet red, embarrassed to be called out like this in front of the guy he liked, even though that was the clear direction they were headed. Luckily, Chris is back on his A-game, and picks up on the young man’s embarrassment immediately. 

He drops his considerable bulk more heavily onto Derek, the skin on skin contact sizzling with heat between them, and Chris goes back to devouring Derek’s mouth, the scrape of their stubble scratching each other giving them a pleasant burn as their tongues meet again and again in an increasingly sloppy kiss, hips canting in a steady rhythm to ease the ache in his rock hard cock. 

It sounds like Peter is talking again, but neither Derek nor Chris can hear the words, too caught up in their own sensations. “That’s good, baby.” Chris praises Derek as the boy thrusts his chest out at the first light touch to his chest. “You have sensitive tits? Well now I have to have a taste.” He declares, inching down Derek’s very defined chest until he can wrap his lips around one of the dusky nubs, applying a light suction that he alternates with sharp nips of his teeth and soothing laps of his tongue, sometimes just rubbing his cheek against it, watching it turn red and puffy from the abuse. 

A hand on his cock startles Chris, who was so focused on Derek that he missed when Peter popped his deflated knot out of Stiles, crawling around the boy to reach for Chris.

The hunter pulls back from both wolves, eliciting a whine from Derek and a pout from Peter. 

“You haven’t exactly been on your best behavior, so you don’t deserve to play with me just yet.” Chris points to the older wolf, who wears an expression best described as ‘stunned-arousal’, and Chris assumes that Peter was always the dominant in all his previous sexual endeavors, and Chris looks forward to bringing him to heel a little bit. 

“Derek,” Chris looks to the flushed wolf, nipples shiny and puffy from Chris’s mouth, his heaving chest betraying how affected he was by the attention. “I am going to fuck Stiles now, but it you can kneel in front of us, we can both suck you off.” Chris proposes, pausing to get permission from Stiles, who looks like he just got his second wind at the words, perking up and nearly dislodging the three fingers he has buried in his sloppy pussy, trying to keep as much of Peters cum inside him as possible. 

Derek and Stiles are one hundred percent on board with Chris’s plan, but Peter glowers, shooting dark glares at his nephew and Chris, unhappy to be left out. “Peter,” Chris beckons the wolf closer, and although he gives an eyeroll, the wolf is by his side in an instant, and Chris grabs his head by his hair, yanking him to press against his body before giving him a soft, slow kiss that contradicts the rest of his rough handling. 

Just as he thought, Peter lets out a little sound into his mouth, so quiet that he doubts Derek hears it, even with his wolf hearing, and Chris presses a chaste kiss to his nose in reward, making the wolf screw his eyes up and huff, trying to posture even though his ears are bright red again. 

“Can you be a good boy for me, Peter?” Chris asks into the skin of his neck, one hand keeping its tight grip in Peters soft hair, the other rubbing soothingly up and down his outer thigh. Peter is relaxing further and further in his arms, and just as Chris thinks he finally has him, the wolf’s eyes dart to where Stiles and Derek are watching, mouths agape. 

“Not on your life, Christopher.” Peter hisses, and for the first time that night, a dusting of pink makes an appearance on his cheeks, and the wolf struggles out of Chris’s grip, or, at least, he tries, his body betraying him when all of Chris’s touches turn gentle, neither of his hands trying to keep him where he is. Stiles lets out a dismayed sound at Peters harsh words, furthering his struggle to get free.

The struggle is evident to Chris, and he decides to let it go today, but return to it another time, preferably when its just them. It was probably too soon to push Peter so far, when he already had one moment of weakness earlier with Stiles. 

He tightens his grip in Peter’s hair, and scrapes his nails lightly up the wolf’s back, light enough to avoid breaking skin, but hard enough to leave lines of red in their wake. “That’s alright. How about you help me make Stiles feel good? Wanna eat him out while I give him another fresh load in his needy pussy?” 

Stiles makes an affirmative noise in the background that Derek muffles with his mouth, trying to give the two the illusion of privacy. Both men have fond smiles as they watch Stiles give token resistance to being shut up, but then he realizes that kissing is better than talking anyway, and loses all motivation to make noises other than needy whines and keens. 

Peter disentangles himself from Chris slowly, not responding verbally, but rearranging them so that Chris leans against the headboard with Stiles in his lap, both men facing outward. Stiles puts his legs on the outsides of Chris’s legs, which are spread for Peter to settle between, and Derek waits off to the side, ready to jump in once everyone settles.

They efficient way the wolves work together without actually interacting is fascinating to Chris, but with so many other things to focus on, like Stiles wiggling on his lap and Peter just inches away from his cock, he chooses not to dwell on it. He can think back on it later. 

Later, when Derek isn’t watching them with unfiltered want, when Peter isn’t reaching out to lick wet stripes up and down the length of him, when Stiles isn’t guiding his hands to pinch and pull at the young mans sensitive nipples. 

Deeming him prepared enough, Peter brings Chris’s flushed head to knock against the fingers Stiles still has buried in his cunt, and Chris has a front row seat to watch as Peter takes the fingers into his mouth while leading Stiles to slowly settle down on Chris’s cock, the tight, wet heat impossibly slick with Peters supernatural amounts of seed.

“Such a good boy for me, Stiles, fuck!” Chris groans out, fingers rolling and pinching the hardened nipples sticking out from Stiles chest. “Took me so deep, and your so tight, so wet, baby.” He closes his eyes to try and focus, to restrain from just fucking into the soft flesh that surrounds him, clenching around him as Stiles tries to adjust to his size. 

One of Chris’s hands falls to the soft skin of Stiles lower stomach, pressing gently and rubbing at approximately where he thinks his womb is. “Bet Peter filled you up real good, baby, plugged up all his seed right in here, right in your little womb.” He was taking a chance here, not knowing if the topic was sensitive, but really hoping it wasn’t, because talking about where he wanted to cum, how he wanted to impregnate someone, really got him off.

It really affected Stiles too, Chris could tell from the way he clenched down hard at the mention of his womb, and he is gripping him so tight, Chris can’t even thrust, so he just grinds his hips in a slow circle, feeling Peter dip down to lick at his heavy balls, and it’s only due to years of training and experience that Chris can refrain from creaming the heavenly cunt around him right then and there. 

“Like that baby? Like knowing how we are going to keep you stuffed full, all the time? Pour all our seed into your tiny, little womb, at least once a day.” He hits every one of Stiles kinks dead on, and from the way Peter is grinding into the sheets, despite just knotting him, and how Derek is white knuckling the base of his cock to stop himself from popping his knot, Stiles can safely say they are all on the same wavelength about this. 

“Love it,” Stiles pants, blood burning in his arousal, “Love being full, having it inside of me and walking around. Love feeling it heavy and sloshing in my tummy,” Words become nearly impossible for Stiles, his mouth left open as he gasps for air between Chris’s brutal rhythm. 

After Chris gets his violent energy out a little bit, he slows his hips back down, rocking into the tight heat with long, steady thrusts. “Sorry, baby, you got me all worked up for a little bit there, are you alright?” He knows the answer already from the gentle caress on his ankle from Peter, as well as the subtle nod from Derek, but he needs to hear it from Stiles. 

Stiles, who seems to be indisposed at the moment, glaring at the sight of Dereks impressive cock about a foot away from his face, eyes narrowed as if he can bring it closer to him by sheer force of will. Derek merely has one of his hands wrapped around it, not stroking, but holding it, ready to start when Chris tells him.

Chris stills his hips, and he definitely has Stiles attention now. “I don’t like being ignored, baby.” Chris warns, though he lacks any heat of real anger in his voice. Stiles certainly picks up on it, but doesn’t challenge him about it, instead choosing to hang his head and mumble a, “sorry.”.

It’s not a real apology, but that isn’t what their session is about, at least, not this one, and Chris hooks his chin over Stiles shoulder and rubs his scruff against the smooth skin of the boys cheek. “Hmmm, well, I think it’s time we gave Derek over there some much needed relief.” 

The wolf in question perks up, and shuffles a couple of inches forward before freezing and looking to Chris for permission. The hunter blinks for a moment, stunned at the submissive streak in the young man, wondering how he never noticed it before. 

Stiles finds his words once again, only to choke on them a bit when Peter moves to lick at his hole, tongue half on Stiles and half on Chris’s cock buried inside him. He tightens his hand that was buried in the wolfs hair, but powers on. 

“You can only come in my pussy.” The delightful blush that seems to permanently rest on Stiles face during sex flares up a hue, but he remains resolute in his decision. All three men nod to him when Stiles turns to them and then Chris beckons Derek forward, and takes the young man’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue under the sensitive foreskin. 

Stiles takes his aggressive approach in stride, drooping a little to mouth and suck at Dereks full, lightly furred balls, groaning at how heavy and full they were, due to being teased and interrupted for the past two hours. 

Stiles and Chris trade places after moment, alternating which spots they lavish, even making out with mostly just their tongues over the head of Derek’s cock, Stiles free hand holding the foreskin back. 

Peter ignores the show above him, keeping fully focused on his task of teasing Stiles to the brink as many times as he can before he gets scolded for it. When Chris finally starts to move again, Peter laps at the expanse of cock that gets exposed on every outward thrust, moaning at the taste of his own cum mixed with Stiles slick and the unique flavor of Chris’s cock, the mixture of scents and smells and tastes nearly have him spilling against the sheets, and he worms a hand under himself to quickly wrap around the base of his cock to keep from coming. 

As Chris gets closer and closer to orgasm, he talks less and less, not that its noticeable with Derek’s cock thrusting in and out of his mouth at odd intervals. He must also give off some sort of signal that he is nearing his end, as Peter and Derek pick up on it astonishingly quick.

“Stiles, lean forward for me, hands and knees, that’s it sweetheart.” Peter coaches the boy to the middle of the bed, after Derek stepped back for a moment. Once where he wants him, Derek is back and Stiles resumes his blowjob, not even seeming to notice how Derek leads him down lower and lower with his cock until Stiles chest is basically on the bed, ass raised high in the air right in front of Chris, legs spread to show off the glistening, pink cunt that he was just ravaging. 

He and Peter stare at the wet folds as they quiver and undulate, looking for a cock to milk. After a particularly rough shudder, a single glob of pearly semen pushes its way out despite Stiles attempts to keep himself closed. Chris breaks out of his momentary stupor and drives his cock back into the young pussy, his hands on her waist as he slams home again and again, the delicious heat and friction of Stiles body driving him higher than he has ever gone before, and the man is grateful for Peter’s presence at his back to help stop him from losing complete control.

He comes with a drawn out groan, grinding his hips against the plush flesh of Stiles ass, trying to get as deep as he can. Peter is mouthing at his neck with a hint of fang, and it makes his hips twitch a bit as he tries to tamp down his natural urge to protect himself by fighting. 

The bastard huffs a laugh as Chris loses one of his death-grips on Stiles to yank on Peters hair in warning. Chris gives one last long and powerful spurt of cum before rocking his hips a bit, making sure all of his spend is given to Stiles, as deep as he can. 

The young man certainly appreciates his efforts, gasping around Dereks cock because he wouldn’t take a break even when he came. Chris admires his tenacity, wincing a bit as he slowly pulls out, hands now cupping Stiles ass to keep his hips pointed up, urging his load to remain deep in Stiles body.

“Such a good boy for me, Stiles, keeping all my cum deep inside your pussy. Just hang on a moment, baby, Derek is getting ready.” Chris pacifies him as Derek steps back from Stiles sinful mouth, eliciting a whine from the boy. 

Derek climbs back onto the bed after a moment, and Chris is confused as to why he is in the same spot as before, but Derek stands and widens his legs to stand over Stiles prone body, and he gives Chris a sharp grin as he points his dick directly downward, squatting and plunging directly into the waiting and unprepared pussy, any and all of the submissiveness from early dissipating as he hunches his massive form over the boy and just takes.

Stiles cries out in ecstasy at the unexpected fullness, spine curved dramatically in what did not look to Chris to be a comfortable position, but given that Peter hasn’t done anything to stop it and the fact that Stiles is suddenly more vocal assure him that nothing but pleasure is felt all around. 

Still, it nags on him that Stiles is going to break his spine if he keeps it that way. He reaches under Derek to grab Stiles and spin him around, without displacing Derek’s dick. The change in position has Stiles on his back with his shoulders and head against Chris’s abs, and with just a little bit of a strain, Derek can switch between kissing Stiles and Chris at will.

Derek is about to blow embarrassingly soon, but nobody minds, and when he hunches down over Stiles and slams his engorged knot into his abused and aching pussy, Stiles screams, coming harder than he ever has in his entire life, muscles straining to the point of pain and darkness shrouding his vision. 

The shrill noise of Stiles alarm is an incessant beep in his ear, and he swipes out an arm from under his comforter to turn it off. The weak rays of morning sunlight herald in a new day, and Stiles groans, shifting in the warmth of his blanketed cocoon to settle back for a few minutes of sleep before his alarm goes off again. 

The wetness in his boxers is uncomfortable and makes its prescence known in the worst of ways, and shame fills him at the sensation. How many wet dreams does he have to suffer through before they go away? This is the fourth this month, and it takes ten minutes of constant scrubbing at least to get the smell off him, so no super sniffers can tell how his night went.

He gets up to start his day, trying to recall his dream. It was a good one, with all three of his inappropriate crushes. Ever since he learned how to use his spark to temporarily change aspects of himself, Stiles has been toying with the idea of living out one of his formerly impossible fantasies. 

His boxers are flung into his hamper without a care, and since his dad wasn’t going to be home for another hour he doesn’t bother with clothes as he makes his way to the bathroom for his much needed shower.


End file.
